


Sweet Dreams

by dapperDouchebaggery



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mindfuck, Post-Sburb/Sgrub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperDouchebaggery/pseuds/dapperDouchebaggery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your name is Karkat Vantas, you are nine sweeps old, and you should absolutely know better. It’s late enough to be considered early, and you’ve been up for about twelve straight days, but you still can’t sleep. Every time you try to close your eyes, your mind is assaulted by memories of THEM." </p>
<p>This is an old, unfinished prompt that I decided to get back to work on. Whoops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, this thing is ancient. I started the fic pre-Cascade, so there are a hell of a lot of differences from canon. The setting was pretty much a typical "post-game, on Earth" AU, which was common as hell at the time. Now... well, that doesn't work so well. 
> 
> Regardless, I occasionally open this thing up every few weeks and look at it. Today, I figured I'd finish it, and finally get the damn thing done. Then I remembered that I'm me, so I need to split it into two parts, and wait ages before actually posting the second bit. (Hopefully, it won't take very long now. I do have to write it entirely from scratch though.)
> 
> So yeah, have some shitty Jadekat.

**> Open your eyes_**

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS, you are NINE SWEEPS OLD, and you should ABSOLUTELY KNOW BETTER. It’s late enough to be considered early, and you’ve been up for about twelve straight days, but you still can’t sleep. Every time you try to close your eyes, your mind is assaulted by memories of THEM. It’s ridiculous, and you know that; the horrorterrors were wiped out sweeps ago, and hadn’t invaded your think pan since, but those few… experiences they _did_ give you were more than enough to rattle your psyche. Every once in a while, the memories resurface, typically only for a day or two. Losing sleep then was far from pleasant, but it certainly beat the alternative, and it was an easy sacrifice to make. But you’d become accustomed to sane amounts of sleep in your old age, so this prolonged clusterfuck was more than a little infuriating. After the first six days you had become entirely exhausted, and by now... Well now you’re just royally pissed off.

**> Close eyes_**

FUCK THAT NOISE.  You just fucking opened them.  You know that your PAST SELF is a PAN-DEAD JACKASS, who’s typically too busy TWIDDLING HIS BULGE to string together a rational thought, but goddamn. Closing your eyes again? That’s stupid, even for him, and even for a him that you just stopped being.

**> Be PAST KARKAT_**

You surprise yourself. Just when you believed you couldn’t possibly think of anything more asinine than trying to go to sleep, _again,_ you actually entertained the notion of being your past self.

OF COURSE YOU’RE YOUR PAST SELF, SHITHEAD. You’re the same goddamn person! He’s KARKAT. You’re KARKAT. And in fifteen minutes when you surpass the FUCKTARD BAR you JUST GODDAMN SET, you will still be KARKAT.

Normally, it’s not this bad. The MEMORIES come back, and you lose a day or two of sleep at most. This time though… well. It FONDLES MAJOR SEEDFLAP, to say the least. After the game finally ended, after Jack was killed, after the handful of you who survived entered the NEW UNIVERSE, you swore that you’d never go that long without sleeping again.  
  
At least you _think_ you swore that. There was a lot of swearing. There usually was, when you were involved. But regardless of whether or not you expressed it, you certainly INTENDED to never let anything keep you from GETTING ALL YOUR MOTHERFUCKING NAP UP ON, as one of your ATROCIOUSLY SHITTY BEST FRIENDS would say. So much for that. On the subject of your shitty friends, you’ve given right the hell up on sleep for the night, so you might as well try to ENTERTAIN YOURSELF.

> **Troll shitty friends_**

You grumble to yourself as you clamber out of your recuperacoon and head over to your computer, but your heart isn’t in it. As much as you should be angered by everything, you’re much too tired to RAGE PROPERLY.  You’re almost angry at yourself for not being angry, but that would take WAY TOO MUCH ENERGY.  You make a mental note to be disgusted with yourself later.  
  
You sit down and sign on to Trollian, quickly scanning your contact list, but it looks like everyone is offline. Not too surprising, considering the time. Except…

Oh.

Yeah.

_No._

There’s one name that isn’t faded, but it’s the absolute last person you want to talk to right now. You don’t know WHY ~~don’t kid yourself Vantas, of course you do~~ , but you’re pretty sure they’d just make your mood worse.  Fuck knows you don’t need that. You tell yourself a little half-lie, say _anyone_ would just annoy you, and you reconsider the wisdom of actually trying to talk to anyone.  How fucking stupid are you? God.

**> Sign off before they notice you’re online._**

Too late.  Their name starts to flash, and the program beeps to alert you to your new message, and dammit, has that beep always been so damn loud and bubbly? If you didn’t know better, you’d say it was her damn fault; the program was merely echoing her obnoxious cheerfulness.

**> Don’t answer it. Just walk away. Ignore the flashing grey box._**

You strongly consider it. It’s not that you don’t like Jade, but you just know she’s going to give you HEAPING MOUNTAINS OF SHIT for being up. Still, it’s too late now, she knows you’re awake. One way or another, you’re gonna get lectured, so you might as well just grimace and bear it.

>Answer Jade_

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] --

GG: karkat! 

CG: RIGHT ON CUE.

CG: JUST WHEN I THOUGHT MY DAY COULDN’T GET ANY MORE HORRIBLE.

CG: HERE COMES HARLEY, ABOUT TO STICK HER NOSE INTO SOMEONE ELSE’S BUSINESS.

CG: NEVER MIND THE FACT THAT THEY ARE PERFECTLY FUCKING CAPABLE OF TAKING CARE OF THEMSELVES.

CG: NO, HARLEY HAS TO PLAY LUSUS AND TREAT KARKAT LIKE A WIGGLER, AS ALWAYS.

CG: FUCK IT. GO AHEAD AND LECTURE ME, “MOM.” I’M READY.

CG: FILL MY AURICULAR SPONGE CLOTS WITH SWEET NOTHINGS ABOUT HOW I’M A BRAIN-DEAD HEMHERROID ON LIFE’S WASTE CHUTE FOR STILL BEING AWAKE.

CG: SERENADE ME WITH THE GLORIOUS MELODY THAT IS YOUR TYPICAL HYPOCRITICAL ASSERTATION THAT I SHOULD GET MY GREY ASS TO SLEEP.

GG: ._.

GG: actually i was just going to say hi and see how youre doing since you didn’t show up to johns party tonight!

GG: but if you want to be a complete jerk about it…

GG: go to bed, karkat!!!   
  
**> Make a bigger ass of yourself_**

You’re pretty sure you couldn’t if you tried.

**> Half-ass an apology_**

CG: OH.  
CG: WELL.  
GG: oh  
GG: well  
GG:  :|  
CG: SORRY, I GUESS.  
CG: I’M UNGODLY FUCKING TIRED RIGHT NOW.  
CG: APPARENTLY THAT MAKES ME EVEN MORE OF AN UNMITIGATED DOUCHE.    
CG: AND IT’S NOT LIKE YOU DON’T GET ON MY CASE ABOUT SLEEP  
CG: SO MAYBE I SPOKE A LITTLE EARLY. WHOOPDE-FUCKING-DOO, ALERT THE GODDAMN MEDIA:  
CG: KARKAT VANTAS MADE A FUCKING MISTAKE. COMPLETELY UNPRECEDNTED. 

She takes a few minutes before she responds, and in that time you can’t believe you underestimated your ability to make things worse. You gave an entire universe CANCER, for fuck’s sake, it’s no surprise that you can ruin a conversation without even trying.

GG: in that case...  
GG: maybe you *should* go to bed? >_>  
GG: i mean you must be pretty tired if youre actually apologizing to me!!!!  
CG: FUCK YOU, I APOLOGIZE WHEN IT’S NEEDED.  
CG: AND IF I COULD SLEEP, I WOULD BE SLEEPING. I’M NOT A COMPLETE DUMBASS.  
CG: PREEMPTIVE “NO, YOU” FOR THE “INCOMPLETE DUMBASS” CRACK I KNOW YOU WANT TO MAKE.  
GG: :P  
GG: so whats up?  
CG: WELL IF I HAD TO HAZARD A FUCKING GUESS...  
CG: ME.  
GG: well no shit, sherlock trollmes!  
GG: thats why were even talking in the first place :P   
CG: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS UP. I’VE JUST BEEN AN IMMENSELY USELESS SLURRYSTAIN FOR THE PAST COUPLE OF DAYS BECAUSE APPARENTLY I’VE FORGOTTEN HOW TO SLEEP WITHOUT MY THINK PAN MOLESTING ME.  
CG: WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?  
GG: horrorterror nightmares again? D:   
CG: GOLD STAR FOR JADE.   
CG: CLEARLY SOMEONE IS A MASTER SLUETH OF OBVIOUS PROBLEMS.  
CG: FEEL FREE TO MOVE YOUR DESK UP TO THE FRONT OF THE CLASS, AND YOU CAN LEAVE THE REST OF YOUR NOSE-PICKING SPECIAL-ED CLASS WHEEZING IN YOUR METAPHORICAL DUST AND LITERAL DANDRUFF.  
CG: TAKE YOUR RIGHTFUL PLACE IN FRONT OF THE TEACHER, SO THAT YOU MIGHT BETTER KISS HIS ASS AND IMPRESS HIM WITH YOUR GLORIOUS DEDUCTION SKILLS.  
CG: BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE, DESPITE YOUR LEGENDARY GRASP OF THE OBVIOUS, YOUR TREMBLING YOUNG PRONGS WILL NEVER GET A GRASP OF PROFESSOR VANTAS’S HEAVING, THROBBING  
CG: ...  
CG: WAIT  
CG: HANG THE FUCK ON  
CG: LET'S JUST STABLE OUR HOOFBEASTS FOR A MINUTE.  
CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN “AGAIN?”  
CG: HOW THE HELL DID YOU KNOW THAT?  
GG: if i answer will you promise to say where you were going with that sentence?  
CG: WHAT. NO. I WILL NEVER MAKE THAT PROMISE.  
GG: darn. :P  
GG: it was a lucky guess?  
CG: BULLSHIT, HARLEY. SPILL.  
GG: fiiiiine.  
GG: ive been having them too and you seem really out of it right now?  
GG: i haven’t seen you be this grumpy and tired since the game. :/  
GG: and jeez, who hasnt had nightmares about them  
GG: so i made a guess!  
CG: THAT’S EVEN WORSE BULLSHIT.  
CG: MY GRUMPINESS HAS NEVER BEEN IN QUESTION.  
CG: I’M OFFENDED BY THE VERY IMPLICATION THAT I’M EVER NOT A GLORIOUSLY FEROCIOUS MURDERBEAST.  
GG: oh please!!!!!  
GG: at most youre like an angry kitten :P  
GG: you act all grumpy but really all you want is to curl up on someones lap and get petted.  
GG: its sort of adorable.  
CG: WOW. THAT MANAGED TO BE EVEN MORE OFFENSIVE.  
GG: but seriously karkat im worried about you. :/   
CG: DON’T BE. I’M FINE.  
GG: uh huh. :|  
GG: when was the last time you slept?   
CG: TWO WEEKS AGO.  
CG: WIGGLER’S PLAY. I STILL FEEL ENTIRELY RESTED AND ITTTTTTTTTTTFGIGGG  
GG: what? ._.  
\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] passed out on the keyboard--  
GG: :|

**> Dream_**

Don’t be stupid. Dreaming would mean you’re asleep. And you can’t possibly be asleep, because you’re a busy guy. You don’t have time for that sort of horseshit; you’ve got eleven other trolls to deal with, and reigning in their constant bullfuckery is a full-time job. Besides, you don’t want to slack off in front of Jack. Truth be told (and fuck yourself for telling it) you sort of look up to the stab-happy Dersite.  Ever since you met him here in the LAND OF PULSE AND HAZE, you’ve felt… well, “safe” is nowhere near the right word, but a little more at ease. He’s a cool guy- not just because his blood is the same WEIRD SHADE as yours, but because he’s just sort of a complete badass.

There is absolutely no way you could ever want to kill him in any possible reality.

At any rate, you doubt there’s anywhere safe here to relax and close your eyes. Especially with how obnoxiously loud the bubbling blood is. Sweet taintchafing fuck, so loud.

**> Examine blood_**

To be honest, you aren’t sure how feel about your land. At first, you were pissed about the candy red fluid that engulfs the planet; almost as if the game itself was taunting you for the HIDEOUS MUTANT SWILL that flows through your veins.  Now however, you’ve come to realize that you’re in the majority. Almost everything you meet bleeds like you do.

You aren’t entirely certain whether that’s relieving or terrifying.  Definitely makes you feel paranoid though. Not that you’d ever admit it to anyone. Hell, you barely admit it to yourself, but… wait. What the hell was that?

**> What the hell was what?_**

You cup an auricular sponge clot with your left hand, and retrieve your REGISICKLE with your right. Something around you sounds wrong. Not the steady pulse that you typically hear in your land; you’d tuned that out pretty quickly after arrival. (Weirdly enough, it always seemed to sync up to your own heartbeat, and almost felt like it was whispering to you. Guiding you. On occasion, Tavros would mention something about being helped along by THE BREEZE, but you’d always shrugged that off. Still, it stood to reason that if he wasn’t speaking out of his waste chute, you’d be stuck with some sort of condescending PULSE.)  No, this was different. Almost like something’s boiling? But your mind is telling you it’s everywhere around you, even though your body swears it’s coming from the small pool behind you. This is… wrong. Whatever is causing the sound, it’s fucking with either your instincts or your think pan. Possibly both. Either way, odds are you’re going to have to find the source and carve the everloving fuck out of it. You glance over to Jack, whose blank eyes widen at the sound, then narrow as he draws his knife. Your hand tightens over the black grip of your scythe, and your nails dig into the base of your palm.

**> Turn around_**

The boiling sound intensifies, and your entire goddamn body screams as you realize that it’s coming from _you._ You gasp as your pump biscuit, still beating, rips itself from your chest in a spray of blood. You should be dead, but instead you’re still watching as what seems like all of the blood in the entire goddamn planet cascades towards your pump biscuit, condensing into what looks distressingly into a bright red copy of yourself. There’s no real face- it’s more of a solid outline than anything, but you still can’t shake the feeling that if it weren’t for the lack of a mouth it would be giving you the creepiest smile ever seen in Paradox Space. The feeling of unease only intensifies as blood continues to draw towards the creature, forming four long, unnatural tentacles coming out of your SANGUINE DOPPELGANGER’s back.

“So much for hiding your blood color, kid,” Jack says coolly, before one of the tendrils rushes towards him, burying itself in his chest.

You can only describe the resulting deluge of blood as an ocean. You reach your free hand up to your chest, placing your palm over the hole that used to contain a rather vital organ, as you watch your mentor’s limp body leak. You had thought that you were bleeding a lot, but that was nothing compared to the sheer flood coming from the archagent, dropping from his mouth, his eyes, every single joint in his carapaced body, but most of all, his chest. You’re almost worried you’ll drown (a distant part of you points out that you don’t NEED air, since you don’t have a blood pusher to... well, push your blood), before it too joins with the creature. It sprouts even more tentacles, more than you can count, and lifts its body, _your_ _body,_ off the ground, before its face rips apart and forms a mouth, all fangs and hatred.

**“Knight of Blood,”** it says, and its voice is just fucking _wrong,_ your own but distorted, more like a collection of screams and jeers that combine into something approximating your own pitch. **“You are an abomination. You hide your nature, but you cannot hide your _weakness._ We will rend the flesh from your bones, and were they not already doomed due to your own failures, use your remains to bludgeon your allies to death.”**

You snarl in response, on hand on your chest, and the other gripping the handle of your regisickle for dear life. Before you can get out anything more coherent, you’re in the air, in the INCREDIBLY AWKWARD GRASP of the doppelganger’s tentacles. The creature gives a hellish chuckle as you squirm, and pulls you closer, until you’re face to face, nose pressed up against its own as it continues to grin. The stench of blood is overpowering, and you only barely resist the urge to vomit. **“Karkat Vantas. You are truly _pathetic._ Your friends will die because you fail to lead them. They will betray you and murder each other, and you will do nothing but _scream_ as they die, one by one. And they, so called ‘Knight,’ will embrace death, for it means freedom from your ineptitude.”**

You start to wish you had puked on it.

The _thing_ thrusts the tendril that holds you away from its body, grinning even wider as the other three tentacles wrap around your head, opening your mouth and ripping, carving your mouth into a crude approximation of a smile. **“But first, Knight,”** it gloats, ripping even further, **“you’re going to _SCREAM._ ”**

Try as you might, you can’t help but oblige.


End file.
